


Under Control

by FoxCollector



Category: The Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: Awkwardness, Blood Junkie Stefan, Blow Jobs, Hand Jobs, M/M, Mentioned Elena Gilbert, Mentioned Isobel, Mind Jobs, Stefan is there for 2 seconds, but there is too much thinking, friends with benefits?, that last one isn't a thing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-19
Updated: 2017-07-19
Packaged: 2018-12-04 02:31:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11545605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FoxCollector/pseuds/FoxCollector
Summary: But don’t ask Alaric about their first time. That? That doesn’t mean much. You can have not-drunk-enough-angry-sex with anyone. If you ask Alaric, the second time is the one that actually matters.Damon will point out that with no first time, there is no second time. And Alaric will point out that with no second time there would be no this time. And they can go on and on about it.





	Under Control

**Author's Note:**

> Hey there! This one is really sort of a sequel to my other story, "Let The Right One In". I guess I recommend reading it first, but you probably don't have to, I think there's just enough context to get by.
> 
> This is also set in the first season, good times. Comments are welcome, but don't be cruel!
> 
> Read, enjoy, review!

“It was nice meeting you, Ric. I’ve heard so much about you.”

Damon watches John Gilbert walk away with something like irritation curling in his stomach. Irritation and... something else that resembles nervousness too much for Damon to like it.

He stands there with Alaric just behind him. Neither of them move for what seems like an eternity. Alaric looks upset. Damon doesn’t blame him, people keep bringing Isobel up, himself included.

Finally they can’t stand there any longer. Alaric clears his throat.

“So...” Damon says, turning to face Alaric and pulling on his best flirty smile. Like they haven’t just had a confrontation with a potentially dangerous probable-enemy, because it’s pretty clear that they’re not exactly on the same side.

“So,” Alaric says.

“Come home with me?” Damon asks. Completely straightforward, normal voice and volume level. Doesn’t care that anyone might hear them.

Alaric glances around. “Damon.”

“What?”

“The other night,” Alaric starts.

“Don’t say it was a mistake. That is way too cliché,” Damon rolls his eyes.

“Fine, I won’t say it. But I will say it was definitely not what I was intending to do,” Alaric says with shrug. Completely serious.

Damon thinks he looks delicious in a suit. “Well, this time then, you can intend to do it. Because it was seriously hot.”

“Ugh,” Alaric says. He can’t deal with this right now. He doesn’t want to. Damon looks incredibly tempting.

“Come on. Please?” Damon bats his eyelashes.

“Damon,” Alaric warns.

“Tell me it wasn’t hot,” Damon says. His face is slightly more serious. Not just the flirty smile he gives everyone. He really wants to know.

“Can we not do this right here?” Alaric sighs.

“Fine,” Damon says, looks a little put-off, unhappy.

“How about we get a drink?” Alaric asks. He doesn’t know why he offers, he’s supposed to be letting Damon down gently not taking him out.

“My place or yours?” Damon asks. He doesn’t want a drink. He wants sex. And there is no chance of that if they’re at the Grill.

“Yours,” Alaric says, gives in. “I’ll follow you there.”

Damon flashes him a smile brighter than the previous one, but not as bright as it should be.

Alaric watches him climb into his car before slowly making his way over to his own. He really shouldn’t be doing this. He really, really wants to. He really doesn’t want to. It’s confusing. He thinks about Jenna and the way she dances. He likes her. He wants a shot with her, doesn’t want to screw it up by screwing Damon. It doesn’t have to be anything more than sex, he tells himself. Just taking out his frustrations on a willing partner. He dreamt about Damon the night after. It was one of those hot, sticky dreams that he hasn’t had in years. One of those he thought he was too old to be getting. Not that he’s old. Just...mature, or something.

He thinks about all of this as he drives to the Salvatore boarding house. Just a drink, lay down some ground rules, fuck Damon into the wall (or maybe the floor this time), that’s all. Hopefully Stefan isn’t home, because Damon might not care but Alaric does. What would he say? ‘Hey, Stefan. I’m just here to fuck your brother, we’ll try not to be too loud. See you in class tomorrow!’ Yeah, that would go over well.

Alaric makes his way to the door. Pauses briefly and then knocks. The door opens almost immediately and Alaric suspects that Damon was actually waiting on the other side of the door. Damon steps aside for him to come in and that’s it. He’s almost disappointed.

“Can I get you a drink?” Damon asks, shutting and locking the door behind Alaric. At least the door locks will buy him a little time if Stefan comes home. Because they never lock the door. What’s the point? Small town, Virginia, where nothing ever happens. Except vampires, but a lock won’t stop them if they don’t need an invitation.

“Uh, bourbon,” Alaric says. He stares at the wall where he and Damon had been (screwed?) last time. It was seriously stupid to have done anything there. It would have served them right to have someone walk in.

Damon catches him looking and smirks a little. He slips past Alaric, careful to brush against him as he leads the way to the parlor, where he’s got a fire going. They don’t need a fire, but Damon likes it.

Alaric sits down on the couch, it’s kind of awkward. He waits for Damon to return with two glasses and sit down an appropriate (and surprising) distance away from him.

Damon passes Alaric a glass and sips at his own.

“So...” Alaric says.

“So,” Damon parrots.

“I’m dating Jenna. Kind of,” Alaric says. Says it like it’s a rule to lay down, and it is, if Damon doesn’t like it then Alaric can walk away.

“I’m in love with Elena,” Damon says, almost before he can stop himself. He hasn’t said that out loud yet, barely admitted it to himself. “Kind of,” he adds.

Alaric looks a bit shocked. “Oh.”

“So...no strings?” Damon asks. Because he can do that. Has done it before, in fact, he’s spent a hundred years doing no-strings-attached relationships because he was ‘saving’ himself for Katherine. And look how that worked out. But that’s beside the point.

“I hate you,” Alaric says.

“Everyone hates me,” Damon shrugs, rolls his eyes.

His face is very expressive, Alaric notes. It’s almost hard to read all the emotions flitting back and forth across it. Alaric knows it’s a shitty justification, but he tells himself that if he can’t kill Damon then he can settle for rough sex. It’s a terrible excuse.

“No strings. No one knows,” Alaric says.

Damon looks uneasy.

“What?” Alaric asks.

“Well, Stefan was kind of here the other night...But I actually think he didn’t notice. Well, I mean he totally knew I was with someone, but I don’t think he knew it was you,” Damon admits. Honestly, Stefan had been so out of it at the time Damon wasn’t sure he’d noticed at all. He certainly hadn’t mentioned it at all, and Damon is pretty sure that’s the kind of thing Stefan would confront him about. Screwing the History teacher.

“Are you sure?” Alaric asks. Because that’s a bit of a deal-breaker.

“Pretty sure. That’s the kind of thing he would bitch at me about if he knew,” Damon says, swirling his bourbon a little. “I can ask about it if you want.”

“How are you gonna ask about it? ‘Hey, you didn’t notice I was with your teacher the other night, did you?’” Alaric downs the rest of his bourbon.

“Pfft. One, I don’t sound like that. Two, I’d ask if he knew I’d had really great sex the other night, which, knowing Stefan, would get him to heckle me if he knew who I was with. And three, any more rule-things? Because I’m kind of horny,” Damon says. He drains his own bourbon and puts the glass aside, then shifts, sort of crawls into Alaric’s lap, taking his glass and setting it aside as well, so he can straddle Alaric’s legs.

“Yeah, I got that,” Alaric says. He places his hands on Damon’s hips cautiously. “No biting.”

Damon makes pouty lips and settles himself so they’re groin to groin. “But you might like it.”

“I doubt it. No biting. I’m calling the shots, okay?” Alaric leans his head against the couch to meet Damon’s eyes.

“No biting unless you say otherwise,” Damon says, he places his hands on Alaric’s jaw, feeling the rough stubble there.

“I won’t say otherwise,” Alaric says stubbornly.

Damon rolls his eyes. “Fine, whatever.” He grinds down against Alaric and groans softly.

“Got any rules of your own to add?” Alaric asks, sliding one hand down to grab Damon’s ass. He glances at the doorway briefly before turning back.

“Stefan won’t be home for a bit. I think he’s going to Elena’s. Also he’s having issues. And...I think,” Damon pauses to brush his lips against Alaric’s. “my only rule is...kissing.”

“Kissing?” Alaric asks.

“Kissing. I like it. So we do lots of it,” Damon tells him. He presses his lips against Alaric’s in a brief kiss. He draws away, smiling like a cat.

Kissing. Alaric doesn’t want kissing. Kissing is intimate.

Kissing makes Alaric think of Isobel.

He kissed her at their wedding, a promise to her.

He kissed her every day he could up until the day she died.

And she did die.

Alaric frowns. He kind of likes kissing Damon, and he doesn’t like that he likes it. He doesn’t want this to cross to anything more. He’s probably worrying too much. He does that.

Isobel always told him he worried too much. Better not to think of Isobel. She slept with Damon once. Or twice. Alaric doesn’t know, really doesn’t want to think about it. He grabs at Damon roughly, grinding against him. Damon’s lips part slightly.

“Fine,” Alaric says.

Damon leans in and kisses him fully. It’s a long kiss, and Alaric does his best to keep it rough and Damon does his best to moan into Alaric’s mouth. If he’s got it right then Damon thinks Alaric likes vocal partners, but he’s been wrong before.

And if Alaric has it right then Damon likes it rough, but Alaric’s been wrong before too.

“Anything else?” Damon asks, he’s already taking off his blazer and tossing it to the other end of the couch.

“Not that I can think of,” Alaric says, he follows suit, throwing his jacket on top of Damon’s. It’s not like the contract is closed to negotiation after this. If he thinks of something else later, no sweat. Whatever. There’s no need to define this. Except that’s kind of what they just did. Alaric needs to stop thinking.

“Good,” Damon says, and he kisses Alaric again, all tongue and teeth.

They’re both hard, although Damon’s so hard it hurts and he sets a pace rocking against Alaric.

Alaric feels way too hot under Damon, Damon whose skin seems to be growing warmer the more he touches it. He starts at the buttons of his own shirt, undoing them clumsily while Damon writhes in his lap.

Damon likes this undressing themselves idea, it’s efficient. Sure, he likes it when they tear their clothes off of each other, but as long as they’re both naked he’ll be happy. So he undoes his own shirt quickly, tossing it on top of their jackets then helps Alaric out of his shirt and adds it to the pile.

“No throwing my clothes around this time,” Damon says, pressing his chest against Alaric’s.

“But it was fun,” Alaric tells Damon’s shoulder. He runs his hands over Damon’s back. He’s sure Damon is several degrees warmer than he was before.

Damon scoffs, runs a hand up Alaric’s arm and settles the other one in Alaric’s hair. Alaric mouths along Damon’s shoulder and Damon shudders slightly.

Alaric isn’t sure if he wants to take his time or just throw Damon down like some kind of caveman and have his way. Of course, he supposes, there’s always the matter of whether Damon will let him or not. He grips one of Damon’s arms, feeling the muscles flex there. He doesn’t feel like he’s stronger than Alaric, but he could break Alaric’s neck in a second flat if he wanted to. Alaric doesn’t like that, it makes him feel uncomfortable, because Damon’s a predator. Not that Damon has really used any force whatsoever. It’s the thought that counts.

“Bedroom?” Damon asks, he leans back from Alaric. God, Alaric looks good like that, all warm and sexed up. And he smells good and Damon can hear his blood rushing. Damon bites his lip, running his hands down Alaric’s chest.

Alaric takes a minute to think. He watches Damon bite his lip, and god that’s hot. Damon’s cheeks are a little flushed and his eyes are so blue and his nipples are hard and he looks incredibly fuckable. No, Alaric doesn’t want to go to the bedroom, it’s too far away and too intimate.

“There,” Alaric motions with his head towards the fireplace.

“Kinky,” Damon smirks. But if Alaric thinks Damon is going to let him ram him up against the side of that thing, he’s got another thing coming.

Alaric holds Damon by the thighs, one hand on his ass, sliding him backwards and himself forwards so they hit the edge of the couch. Damon reattaches himself to Alaric’s lips until Alaric lowers him to his knees on the floor. It’s confusing and Alaric is pretty sure it looked really awkward, but they’re still figuring what works for them and they’re entitled to awkward twisted-spider body mechanics.

Alaric isn’t stupid. He knows Damon is letting him push him around, and he’s not really sure how he feels about that. Except that it’s kind of hot.

When Damon hits his knees he is expecting to be told to suck, or some such thing so he’s surprised when Alaric follows him down and pushes him flat on his back. _Nothing fancy then,_ Damon thinks, and he’s a little disappointed, but hey, as long as he gets off then he’ll settle in for the ride.

Alaric is regretting moving them off of the couch now. It’s intimate being so close to the fire. Whatever. He starts on Damon’s belt buckle, slips between Damon’s legs.

In a flash Damon rolls them. He sits back on Alaric’s hips and finishes opening his own belt. Then he leans in to kiss Alaric hungrily, tugging his own pants off as best as he can. He moves back enough to get them all the way off and flings them at the growing pile on the couch. He’s wearing black boxer-briefs that Alaric thinks were probably ridiculously expensive. Damon is back on him then, his hands going down to Alaric’s pants.

Alaric settles his hands on Damon’s thighs, lets Damon pull his pants off and toss them at the couch. Alaric is briefly grateful that he wore a nice pair of underwear, he’s planning on burning that grey pair anyway. He grinds up into Damon, running his hands up to Damon’s hips. Damon’s eyes flutter shut and Alaric rolls them back over, pressing Damon down with his body.

Damon smirks a little. “Hot.” He leans up to kiss along Alaric’s jaw, his hands busying themselves with Alaric’s nipples.

And it feels good so Alaric rocks into Damon’s body, enjoys the feeling of Damon’s thighs tightening against him. Alaric reaches down, and it’s incredibly inconvenient that he has to move so much to get Damon’s underwear off, but he manages because Damon is bendy and more than willing to lift his knees enough to at least pull his underwear off one leg. Then Alaric pulls off his own inconvenient underwear, because this taking it slow stuff is ridiculous. Not that they’re going slow.

Damon watches Alaric, licks his lips, he likes the look of Alaric’s cock. It looks heavy and satisfying and Damon didn’t really get to see much last time, but he sure felt it. He raises a leg, sliding it along Alaric’s leg lewdly.

Alaric rubs against Damon and it’s good. He supports himself with one arm and surprises himself when he leans in to kiss Damon.

Damon arches into him when they kiss, his arms pulling Alaric in for more, please more, and his leg hooks around Alaric’s waist. Familiar territory by now.

“Lube?” Alaric asks when he pulls away. He doesn’t wait for Damon to answer before he starts kissing along Damon’s jaw and down to his throat.

“In my room,” Damon groans, one hand in Alaric’s hair.

“Damn,” Alaric mutters into Damon’s skin. He bites lightly, then harder when Damon’s breathing gets a little ragged.

“Not like...oh, there...I keep it... on the m-mantelpiece,” Damon tries to say it with some snark, but it doesn’t work very well. “We could...go get it.”

“Too far,” Alaric says, grinds against Damon to make his point. Damon moans against him.

“Not like I...need it,” Damon says, his lips curling.

“Next time,” Alaric says.

And as much as Damon likes the sound of that (next time, there will be a next time, oh god yes) he’s still a little disappointed.

“I don’t need it, I’d heal,” Damon says into Alaric’s shoulders.

“No, next time,” Alaric says firmly. As firmly as he can while grinding against Damon.

Although Damon does think he is firm, and isn’t he so funny he should get around to telling Alaric these things. But he doesn’t say anything else, just grinds up against Alaric. And it’s good, he likes it, but they’ve done this before. Damon wants more. He always wants more. So he rolls them over again (that’s starting to be fun, and annoying) and slides down Alaric’s body in a way that he knows will drive him crazy.

Alaric is briefly confused and then entirely on-board when Damon slithers down his body and takes his cock into his perfect mouth. There’s something in the back of his head protesting that mouth on vampire equals fangs, but he’s not entirely present to listen to it because Damon is swirling his tongue over the head of Alaric’s cock and the room gets a little blurry for a second. Alaric sits up a bit, supporting himself on his elbows, and watches Damon work his cock, pink mouth sliding over his flesh, one hand gripping where his mouth doesn’t reach. Filthy, sinful, absolutely beautiful.

Damon glances up and catches his eye, and Alaric can’t support himself anymore, lets himself fall back against the carpet, one hand going to the back of Damon’s head. He tries not to force himself down Damon’s throat, but god he just wants to fuck his face. Damon makes a noise and then slides all the way down, deep-throating Alaric. Alaric chokes on a gasp.

Right, not like vampires need to breathe.

Damon puts one hand on Alaric’s hip lightly, the other rolls Alaric’s balls teasingly. Alaric can’t help himself, he bucks up into Damon’s mouth, moving roughly. Damon lets him control the pace, keeps his teeth away, swiping with his tongue whenever he can.

Alaric comes much sooner than he thought he would, he barely has time to give any warning before his vision goes almost white and he barely has the breath to curse. Damon pulls back a touch, swallows obviously and smirks. And if that isn’t the hottest and most annoying thing he’s seen all day, then Alaric doesn’t even know. His head hits the floor with a thunk.

Damon crawls back up Alaric’s body, kisses him deeply, allowing Alaric to taste himself. Damon is still painfully hard against Alaric’s stomach and is seriously considering jerking himself off if Alaric won’t hurry up. Damon grinds against him and curses lightly.

Alaric seems to clear his head, remember that Damon is still there and trying to get his attention. He lazily rolls them over and sits back on his haunches between Damon’s legs, taking a breath and admiring the view; Damon looks absolutely needy right now.

Damon lays back, watching Alaric curiously. He doesn’t really care if Alaric doesn’t feel like giving him a blow-job, he just really wants Alaric to touch him already. He spreads his legs around Alaric a little then trails a hand down his own body because if Alaric wants a fucking map or something then Damon can show him what he likes. Alaric chuckles and Damon frowns at him, wrapping a hand around himself. Alaric knocks his hand away, replacing it with one of his own. _Finally_ , Damon thinks, and then he’s done with thinking, it’s overrated, because Alaric is doing that twist-thing that Damon likes so much.

Damon squirms a little, breath coming a bit quicker, one hand clutching at the bottom of the couch because he can’t quite reach Alaric from here. Alaric trails his other hand up Damon’s inner thigh and it makes Damon shudder and raise his leg so Alaric can rest it on his shoulder. Alaric palms Damon’s balls with one hand, the other casually spreading pre-cum around the head of Damon’s cock, and damn is he good at this multi-tasking thing. The hand on his balls moves lower and Alaric thumbs lightly at Damon’s entrance. It makes Damon’s mouth drop open and curses tumble out.

Damon moves a hand, the one that isn’t trying to break the couch leg with his death-grip, to his own chest, pinching one nipple and then the other. Alaric swears above him and he snaps his gaze up to meet and hold Alaric’s. He wants to close his eyes almost as much as he wants to watch Alaric, but his eyes slide shut when Alaric rubs against his hole again. And it’s completely unfair when Alaric throws in another twist to Damon’s cock. Damon comes with a curse and broken syllables that might be Alaric’s name, neither of them is sure.

Damon lays there for a moment and Alaric just watches him. He wipes his hand on the rug, receiving a dirty look from Damon.

“That’s expensive,” Damon complains.

“You didn’t care two minutes ago,” Alaric says.

Damon rolls his eyes. “There’s tissues over there.”

Alaric’s muscles complain when he stands, but he goes all the way over to the other table and grabs a Kleenex (seems like a funny thing for vampires to have) and when he returns, Damon is still lying there, arms folded behind his head. Alaric wipes his hand off again then wipes at Damon’s stomach. Damon looks perfectly puzzled for a moment, then he takes the tissue from Alaric and finishes cleaning himself, tossing the tissue into the fire and receiving a dirty look for his efforts.

Alaric wants to trail a hand along Damon’s body again, but he doesn’t. Instead he reaches over and grabs his underwear, pulling it back on in silence. Damon lies there for a few moments, just watching Alaric get dressed.

“You’re leaving?” Damon asks. He doesn’t know why he asks, of course Alaric is leaving, he’s not even sure he would want Alaric to stay.

“Yeah, got stuff to do, you know,” Alaric shrugs his way into his pants.

“Hm.” Damon finally sits up and pulls his underwear back on.

They finish dressing in silence.

“So...next time?” Damon tries to casually clean up their glasses, grab himself a clean one for a glass of blood. It doesn’t work, he isn’t casual.

“Yeah,” Alaric says. “I thought we could keep it spontaneous.”

“There’s something to be said for planning,” Damon says.

“We’ll see.” Alaric grabs his jacket, hesitates.

Damon wants to kiss him again, but he doesn’t. Instead he reaches over and grabs his own jacket, pulling it on like it’s a security blanket.

They both look clean, presentable, you would never be able to tell by looking that they’d just had sex. Except maybe the hair. Damon reaches up and tries to pat his hair down, it’s sticking out where Alaric’s hand had been. Alaric copies him unconsciously, erasing all evidence that they’d touched.

“Well, good night,” Alaric says, makes it all the way to the door before he looks back.

“Yeah, night,” Damon answers and gets himself that glass of blood. He can still smell sex in the air, can still see how Alaric at least looks thoroughly kissed and he can still feel Alaric’s hands on him.

Then Alaric leaves, and Damon is alone with his glass. He sits on the couch where Alaric had sat not much earlier, and he thinks. He thinks about this town and Liz Forbes, and the Council. He thinks about Katherine, and Stefan, and beautiful, bright Elena, and Alaric with his strong hands. He thinks about Isobel, and Uncle John Gilbert who’s come to ruin it all. He hears Stefan come home before he’s fully aware of it.

“We’ve got a problem, Stefan. And when I say problem, I mean global crisis. Uncle John is...” He trails off.

Stefan doesn’t look so good. And he can’t take his eyes off of the glass of blood in Damon’s hand.

 


End file.
